


with the dawn

by argentumn



Series: Hero's Immortal [CorNyx Week 2019] [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, CorNyx Week 2019, Kingsglaive - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-05-16 20:52:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19325884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentumn/pseuds/argentumn
Summary: CorNyx Week 2019, Day FourPrompt: Nyx survives the events of Kingsglaive.“You good?”It’s clunky, bordering on apathetic and Cor is clearly uncomfortable trying to express his concern, but it warms Nyx’s heart nonetheless.“I’ve had better days,” he says, honest, “but it could be worse.”





	with the dawn

**Author's Note:**

> i'm hella late, but so much stuff ended up happening last week and i couldn't finish everything in time. i'll still be posting the rest of my cornyx week stuff though, so stay tuned.

“Cor!”

He’s desperate, he thinks, desperate to touch and to feel the warmth of another. And so he acts on it, throwing himself into the Marshal’s arms at the first opportunity and resolutely ignores the muted surprise on the older man’s face.

He’s desperate, he  _knows_ , for something to ground him, to make him believe he’s still  _alive_.

Nyx can still feel the heat, the  _burning_ in his veins, reminders of what should have happened. The Ring is gone, on its way to Prince Noctis via Lady Lunafreya and Insomnia is in ruins. There are marks on his arms where his skin should have fallen away, little cracks like flaking paint, but that’s the extent of his injuries.

Libertus has moved on ahead, joining the small group of Kingsglaive that hadn’t betrayed the Crown. Nyx only focuses on Cor, on the arms around his waist and the strong heartbeat beneath his right ear. He knows it’s probably unsightly, for the hero of the Kingsglaive to be clinging so tightly to the Marshal of the Crownsguard, but he thinks given the situation, it’s acceptable.

Given the situation, it’s acceptable for Nyx to cling to his  _boyfriend_ , in any case.

They don’t stay in one place for long, eager to put distance between their ragtag group of survivors and Insomnia’s ruins. He vaguely notices Cor make a phone call as they move, wants to ask, but can guess all the same.

The King is dead, half the Kingsglaive is dead, the Prince is heading for Altissia with his retinue and the Oracle Princess of Tenebrae is somewhere beyond the border with the Ring of Lucii.

They make it to a safe haven a few miles from Hammerhead. The desert of Leide stretches for miles every way they turn and it’s getting dark, fast. They set up the tents, equipment they’d pilfered from abandoned buildings used to set up their camp as the light fades. They’re all quiet, taking stock of their injuries and trying to wrap their heads around the events that had transpired during the last few hours.

Nyx finds himself sitting on the edge of the haven, listening to the tones of Cor and Libertus talking. He thinks of Crowe and finds himself missing her immensely. Then he thinks of Luche and Tredd and Drautos; wonders if he ever really knew them at all. It’s hard to think that he didn’t. More than that, it  _hurts_ to think the relationships he’d built with them had been all founded on lies.

But now they’re dead, left behind in the ruins of Insomnia, their final resting place as traitors to the line of Lucis.

A _snap_ behind him has Nyx flinging himself to his feet, every nerve in his body tingling and Libertus puts his hands up, placating.

“Easy, Hero. Just the fire.”

They watch as Nyx’s shoulders slump, exhaling harshly and he refuses to meet their eyes. They’ve both noticed the marred skin and singed clothing, know something severe happened while protecting Lunafreya and fighting Drautos-turned-Glauca to the bitter end. It’s concerning, how nervy and out of place, they all are.

A day ago, they were enjoying what seemed to be the beginnings of a precarious peace treaty. Now, they’re fleeing for their lives.

The fire crackles again and this time, they all wince.  


**♡**

  
Nyx wakes just before dawn, to movement outside the tent.

He summons his kukris reflexively, forgetting for a moment where he is and Cor’s head comes through the tent flap a second later. He’s looking at Nyx like he can read the glaive’s thoughts, eyebrows pinched he zips the tent shut behind him. It barely affords them privacy from the others, but right now, they’ll take it.

Cor sits on his previously abandoned bedroll without a word, content with the stretched-out silence between them. They don’t need to talk, not really. They’re both dealing with their losses in their own way and learning to live without their routine way of life would be a challenge they’re both willing to face if it means living another day.

Neither of them wants to think about what could’ve happened; what could  _still_ happen and they won’t, not until they face it head-on.

“You good?”

It’s clunky, bordering on apathetic and Cor is clearly uncomfortable trying to express his concern, but it warms Nyx’s heart nonetheless.

“I’ve had better days,” he says, honest, “but it could be worse.”

He misses the way Cor’s eyes follow his hand, scratching at an itchy piece of skin that should’ve been burned away. He does, however, catch the tail-end of the dark look that crosses Cor’s face when he sees the burn scar where the Ring had engraved itself onto his finger. It doesn’t actively hurt, not anymore, but the phantom burning will haunt Nyx for the rest of his life.

“I’ll be meeting with the Prince, soon.” Cor’s tone has an air of resignation. “I need to inform him of what he needs to do next.” The ‘ _now that the king’s gone’_ goes unsaid, but Nyx hears it anyway.

He has nothing of merit to say, but the glaive can’t help the heaving sigh. “What a time and way to become King.”

Cor says nothing, but they both know the sentiment is shared.  


**♡**

  
They leave after a meagre meal, Nyx leaving no room for argument about his coming.

Libertus spares him a worried glance before they part, leaving with the others for Hammerhead and beyond. Cor and Nyx are headed in the opposite direction, at least for now.

He’s not sure whether or not Cor had messaged the Prince in advance, but they don’t have to wait long once they reach the Tomb of the Wise. The Regalia is parked a little out of the way and they’re joined by the Crown Prince and his retinue. Nyx waits for them to reach him, while Cor turns and heads inside.

“Your Hi–,” he pauses for a split second and bows deeply, “Majesty.”

This man is no longer the Crown Prince, but the _King._

It’s just a shame that he’s really still no more than a boy.

A boy who still holds anguish over his father sending him off with a smile, lying to protect his son’s happiness and who has every right to be as furious as he is, listening to Cor speak in front of the Tomb. He’d be livid too, Nyx thinks, watching the scene unfold from his place in the corner.

He  _is_ livid.

Absolutely seething with hatred and resentment for the Kings of Yore, for failing to do their duty and passing along the misery, one after another. Nyx feels the burning in his veins and grits his teeth. It would do no one any good if he broke now. And it would do no good to wish death on those who no longer lived, no matter how much Nyx wishes it would.

It’s too late for that, it’s too late for  _this_.

Cor sends Noctis and the others on to the next royal arm, unsettled and weary. Nyx can only pray the Astrals take  _some_ mercy.  


**♡**

  
Travelling with hunters was never something Nyx had thought he’d experience again, even if  _these_ hunters killed daemons and not animals for food.

He’s not sure what Cor is planning, having them head for the Vesperpool and the Meldacio Hunter HQ en route, but they’d left Noctis and the others behind at the border of Duscae and Leide; Cor confident in the new King’s strength.

Nyx only hopes that for all their sakes, Cor’s confidence is well-founded.

The hunters, it seems, welcome them with open arms… and beds, if the looks thrown their way when they first arrive are of any indication.

And so they hunt, always on the lookout for information on any other royal tombs, in exchange for food and board. Working on a rotational basis — two weeks hunting, two weeks rest — Nyx has come to call the dingy apartment he and Cor share in Lestallum, home.

It’s really no more than an unevenly split box, with two and a half rooms in its entirety. The entryway, kitchen, dining and living room make up one room, while a bed and two chests of drawers make up the bedroom. The tiny bathroom had just enough room for Cor to spread his arms comfortably and not touch the mirror and shower curtain at the same time.

It isn’t much, but it’s  _theirs_.

A new beginning, of sorts.

Still, no matter how small the apartment is, Nyx wakes with the dawn light filtering through moth-eaten curtains and Cor in bed beside him. They’re here, they’re  _alive_ , even though the shadows of their pasts fight to drag them down.

Nyx watches the sunrise outside through the living room window, fixing up two cups of inky and bitter coffee and thinks;

This is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> this was sposed to be smutty filth, but it didn't want to so here we are.  
> come yell with me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/argentulric) about ffxv
> 
> **Do not repost or redistribute this work on any other site/app. If you see this work anywhere but on AO3, it has not been posted/shared with consent.**


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